


A Looming Shadow

by Cara252



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Bittersweet, Chrobin Week 2019, Established Relationship, Injury, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cara252/pseuds/Cara252
Summary: Robin has always known that he's more than a simple Plegian amnesiac who randomly crossed the border to Ylisse. From his mastery of tactics to his talent of dual wielding tome and sword, everything about him screams of danger. But Chrom does not seem to care about that, and despite Robin's best attempts to keep him at a distance, the prince manages to sneak into his heart. And while it's hard to let go, Robin knows he has to at some point. Because the mark on his right hand shows that he is somehow connected to Grima.Practically coming back from the dead shows him just how scaringly close that connection truly is.#ChrobinWeek2019 Day 1-Battle & War





	A Looming Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, Chrobin week was at the most unfortunate time for me that it ever could have been. I decided to try and write something anyway, because I finally wanted to get over my insecurities and post a fic. But then this and that happened, and in the end I barely found time to do anything. However, I did prepare somewhat of an outline for every prompt and even had this specific fic in progress, so in a moment of spontaneous motivation I decided to finish this- it's 1am. And even though it didn't turn out exactly how I wanted it to be, I decided to post it anyway. Why? Because I'm done finding excuses for myself. I always tell myself I suck at writing and while this certainly isn't my favourite or best work, it's still a decent one. One can only learn from mistakes, am I right? So, yeah, I'd really appreciate some feedback.
> 
> Anyway, have fun reading my trash.

Pain.

That’s the first thing he feels when he regains consciousness. An intense, stabbing pain in his lower abdomen that feels like a thousand tiny needles dipped in alcohol were jammed through his skin. Robin grits his teeth in agony, barely holding back a scream. The tenser he becomes the worse it gets, so he forces his body to relax, taking slow, deep breaths as he attempts to calm his racing heart.  
  
Why is he wounded? He cannot remember, and his mind too dazed and foggy to find a clear answer to his question. After a moment he opens his eyes, quickly adjusting to the dim lighting, to find himself in the Shepherd’s medical tent; Lissa’s tent to be exact. He’d recognise it anywhere.

The shelves to his right are stacked with supplies such as vulneraries, bandages and more, everything organised neatly by Maribelle, to the point you’d think she is the one sleeping here. A bit further to his left is a flap, separating the infirmary from the princess’ own quarters.  
  
The next thing Robin notices is Chrom, who is seated on a chair to his right, and completely bend over towards the tactician with his head resting face first on the mattress of the bed that Robin is resting on. The position looks heavily uncomfortable, and Robin is sure the prince is going to have a sore neck for at least a few days.

A soft smile creeps onto the his face. He reaches for Chrom’s hand, taking it into his own, and feeling the rough skin and scars that come from years of practiced swordplay. The prince stirs slightly as Robin gives it a gentle squeeze, his snores fading for a moment as he mumbles something Robin cannot quite catch, only for them to return shortly after. Robin merely chuckles as he lets his gaze roam once more.  
  
A silver lance in the corner catches his eye. The blade is crusted with dark red blood, almost a sickly black unlike anything Robin has seen before. His stomach churns at the sight, turning his insides upside down. He remembers now, the shock shooting up his spine like lightning, immobilising him.

They were in Plegian territory - a small mountain pass with a dangerous cliff side, too deep to see the bottom of. It all happened in a second. Plegian soldiers suddenly streamed from everywhere, surrounding the Shepherds until there was no way out. Robin struggled to keep track of the ensuing battle, barely able to get them to move forward through the Plegian brigade, and almost losing half their army by a hair’s length.

Somehow - Robin doesn’t know how - Lissa fell back into the range of an enemy lancer, the lance about to pierce her right through her heart. There was no time for the tactician to think as he jumped in to deflect the weapon, but instead took the hit himself. The lance went through him entirely, and in an instant fire spread through his entire body, burning him from the inside.

Robin unconsciously crushes Chrom’s hand in a death grip, and the prince startles awake immediately, tearing Robin out of his thoughts as well. The prince’s sudden movement makes the tactician jump, and he cringes as the wound flares up again, jaw clenching. “Robin?!“ This time simply going slack doesn’t work, and the pain only continues to worsen by the second. “Robin, are you okay?!“ Does it look like it?  
  
“Get Lissa… quick…,“ he says instead through clenched teeth, meeting Chrom’s fearful gaze with his own pleading one. The prince nods and rushes off to wake Lissa, taking what seems to Robin like ages, but is probably merely a few seconds. It’s agonising as he waits, and he closes his eyes, blocking out everything to try and concentrate on his breathing.

He chokes multiple times, gasping for breath until he gets it somewhat back under control. At some point he feels the familiar warmth of a healing staff filling his body. Slowly, the pain subsides to an annoying itch, giving him the chance to even his breathing and relax, muscles going lax. It takes a bit until he’s fully calmed, but he eventually opens his eyes again.  
  
Lissa stands beside Chrom - who has, unnoticed by Robin, grasped the tactician’s hand again - staff grasped firmly, and face set in a determined expression as she continues to heal and soothe his wound. Chrom smiles at him, relieve shining in his sky blue eyes. “Thank Naga, you’re alright,“ he mutters. Robin feels far from alright, but he smiles back regardless.  
  
Lissa also turns to face him, grinning at him, although it lacks her usual joy. “Feeling any better Robin?” she asks, but there is nervousness leaking from her voice. Robin doesn’t quite understand why. Despite the princesses’ lack of confidence in her own abilities, Robin knows for a fact that she is an excellent healer, one the Shepherds would be lost without. As is Maribelle, of course.  
  
“Yes, thank you Lissa.” The princess’ face brightens just a little, the grip on her staff finally loosening a little. “But I need to ask you something. Are the Shepherds alright? Did everyone make it out safely?“ The tactician moves to sit up, but is promptly stopped by Chrom who guides him back down.  
  
“You shouldn’t move Robin, you’ll simply irritate the wound again,“ Lissa says with a frown.  
  
“But I need to-“  
  
“What you need to do is _lay still_.“ There’s no room for argument in Lissa’s voice as she glares at him, so he shuts up and lays down on the cot. “Better,“ she says, shoulders slacking a bit.

“Don’t worry about the soldiers, Robin, they’re mostly fine,“ Chrom says, “you should worry more about yourself. After we removed the lance you lost so much blood that you fell unconsciousness and wouldn’t wake up for days. There was-“ Chrom chokes on his words and comes to a sudden halt, face stricken with dread. Robin waits patiently for him to try again. “The blade was dipped with a deadly poison. It attacked your heart and you almost… died.“  
  
Robin’s heart plummets to the bottom of his stomach. The books he read about Plegian strategies and weapons did include a section about poison, which mostly belonged to ancient times after Grima’s Fall, often brewed by high ranking grimleal. The toxin was quick and aggressive, and just like Robin, you would lose consciousness in mere seconds. It would kill you in less than an hour shortly after. Death is inevitable. But- but Robin is alive. Which is completely impossible without the antidote. But Robin is alive- Robin is- He is-  
  
“Robin?“ The prince’s worried voice snaps him out of his thoughts.  
  
“I’m-… fine,“ he says with an awkward laugh, trying to suppress the bile rising up his throat. Neither the prince or the princess look convinced, but Chrom looks particularly upset. “Lissa, would you mind giving us a second?“  
  
“Alright,“ she says with a seriousness Robin has never seen on her before, “but no straining activities you two.” Before her brother can question what exactly she means by that- and before Robin can stop him, because he instantly realised what she must be talking about, and _oh shit_ \- Lissa is already elaborating. “If I find out you two had sex in _my tent_ _and_ opened Robin’s stitches again, I swear I’ll kill you two myself this time.”  
  
“Lissa?! You can’t just- how do you eve-“  
  
“I’m your sister Chrom, and my room is right next to yours!” she says accusingly, cutting off Chrom’s embarrassed sputtering, hands on her hips. “Not to mention, you two aren’t exactly quiet!” Robin lets go of Chrom’s hand to reach up and cover his burning face, and never has he wished so much to just disappear as he does right now. “I’ve come to realise exactly how you deal with stress, but that’s the exact opposite of what Robin needs right now. He needs to rest, so _don’t you dare._ Is that understood?”  
  
They simply nod, lost for words.  
  
“Alright then,” she says with a huff and heads for the exit, “it’s still early, so I’m going to help making breakfast, you’ll find me in the mess tent if you need me. After breakfast I will check in with you again, Robin.” She shoots them a small smile, and then she’s gone.  
  
Neither of them says anything for a while, avoiding each other’s gaze. The tactician is the one to break the silence. “Chrom, please tell me what exactly happened.” Despite how uncomfortable the prince looks from the question he still answers, although a bit hesitantly.  
  
“After we managed to escape from the Plegian soldiers and into safe territory, we immediately set up camp to take care of you. But nothing would work, you continued to stay unconscious and you even stopped breathing for a few minutes.” Chrom shudders at the memory, and Robin feels guilty for causing him such worry, for scaring him. “Tharja was the one to pick up on the poison in your body. She told us you wouldn’t make it, that it was incurable without the fitting antidote, one which no one knew how to make.” He took a deep breath before he carried on. “Yet, you started breathing again. After hours you were still alive, writhing in pain on the infirmary bed. It- it was a horrible sight. Seeing you struggle to stay alive and knowing I can’t do anything to help.”  
  
There’s an underlying truth there, and Chrom knows. Knows that Robin should be dead, that he shouldn’t be here, but that by some sort of miracle he is anyway. The tactician isn’t sure what to think of it. He’s had his suspicions on what the mark on his hand meant, has read the few books available in the royal library for even a clue, and ended his research with one simple name. Grima. The mark is called Grima’s Heart. One which appears only ever unfinished, even in pure Plegian bloodlines. However, Robin’s is complete with all six eyes, and as said in an old Plegian diary, it marks the return of Grima.  
  
He’s bound to the Plegian god somehow, he knows that for certain now, otherwise he’d be dead now. If it’s a curse or a blessing, Robin isn’t sure, isn’t even sure if he wants to know. For the Ylisseans, Grima had been the god of death, a brutal dragon who feasted on the souls of the dead, and threatened the entire continent. For the Plegians, he had been a peaceful watcher, protecting their lands from threats, and guiding the souls of the dead to their final resting place. Two views so drastically different, Robin is not sure which one to believe.  
  
One thing stands out though. They both describe him as invincible. No mortal weapon or poison could truly kill, even Falchion could only seal him away for a thousand years. Now there’s Robin, who for some inexplicable reason managed to survive a deadly toxin that was in his direct blood stream, hand marked with Grima’s Heart. Again, it brings up the question who he really is or who he used to be. He wishes he could remember.  
  
“For how long was I gone?” the tactician asks, shifting his focus to more important things for now.  
  
“A week or so.”

“I apologise for delaying our pursuit for as long as I have.” Robin rarely makes mistakes, if he does, they are so unnoticeably small that no one cares about them, but he always beats himself about even the smallest things. He’s a perfectionist to the core, after all. So, this time he’s really done it. Gangrel is still out there for a week more than he should be, while Robin is lying in bed, doing nothing against the mad king’s genocide.  
  
“Dear Naga, Robin,” Chrom says, the angered tone putting Robin off a bit, “you were practically dead. You just woke up after days of struggling for your life _._ The last thing any of us are thinking about is that you held us back, we’re just glad _you’re alive.”_

“Still, I should get back to work,” the tactician argues, “we need to keep moving if we don’t want to be caught by surprise again, and I need to-“  
  
“You need to rest.” Chrom cuts him off, completely furious now.“ And as your captain, I order you to stay here and heal until Lissa says you’re free to leave.”

“We can’t stay here Chrom.”  
  
“We are staying here until you’ve healed up enough to properly move.”  
  
Robin grits his teeth. Why was Chrom always this stubborn? Couldn’t he see the immediate danger they’re in? If they camp put here in the middle of Plegian territory for longer than necessary their location would sure be discovered. The tactician doubts they have enough recourses to survive another attack, not to mention that Robin couldn’t defend himself. He doesn’t wish to imagine what they would do to him should they find out about his mark.

He heaves a sigh. Stay calm.

“Chrom, listen,” Robin says, reaching for Chrom’s hand again and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know you’re worried about me, but if they find us then we will lose. I can’t fight, I can’t strategize on the battlefield, I can’t even really be near one in all honesty. I’d be completely helpless. So, please, let me figure out a way to move to a safer location.”  
  
Chrom stares at him for a while, anger slowly dissipating.

“I’m not made of porcelain, Chrom, I’ll survive.”

“I just don’t want to lose you, Robin.” The prince squeezes back, leaning a bit over the tactician’s smaller frame. It’s almost scary how Robin automatically wraps his arms around those broad shoulders without a hint of hesitation. “You mean a lot to me, you know that right?” They meet in a chaste kiss, Chrom supporting his weight with his elbow on the pillow beside Robin’s head. His hand strokes Robin’s cheek gently, moving back to massage his scalp.

“Yes,” he breathes between kisses, “yes, I do.” Chrom smiles sweetly at him as they part, and Robin cannot help but look away. This isn’t a good idea, he knows that. The mark on his hand burns, reminding him of the shadows looming over him, threatening him and his friends. He should stay away from Chrom as far as possible, distance himself for their own good.

But he cannot, and he feels selfish for that, for putting the others in possible danger.

“I’m going to ask Lissa if it’s alright to move you to your own tent, alright?” Robin nods absently, and after one last swift kiss Chrom leaves the tent.

The tactician lifts his right hand to his face to stare at the six eyes. Robin feels paranoid, but he almost swears they’re staring back.

**Author's Note:**

> If you actually read this, thanks.
> 
> Also, I'm trying to tell myself not to delete this even if it sucks, because I really need to build some confidence. Hence, if this is gone at some point, sue meeeeeeee.
> 
> (I might finish the other prompts as well, only the future can tell.)


End file.
